


First Comes Marriage

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, M/M, Professor Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets a job at a local liberal arts college, but there's a catch - they want all of their faculty to be married. So Dean asks his best friend Benny to help him out  by pretending to be his fiancé. Benny has one condition, for Dean to reconcile with his estranged brother. Things start out well, but when a family emergency comes up, things start falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my amazing artists, [Sharkifer](http://sharkifer.tumblr.com/) and [Thedisreputabledog](http://thedisreputabledog.tumblr.com/)! You guys are awesome.

"Come on, it's not like you'll actually have to be my husband, you can just pretend," Dean says.

Benny rolls his eyes. "Really? That's how you're trying to sell this to me?" Benny's sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he's kneading bread, his thick forearm muscles flexing. 

Dean leans over the counter and rubs his eyes. He can't believe that he's trying to convince Benny of this either. But he needs the job. He _wants_ the job. And the school wants all of their faculty to be married. So Dean has two choices: find himself an actual spouse, or turn down the position.

Neither one of those choices is actually an option. 

Which is why he's in Benny's kitchen trying to convince his friend that this is a sane idea.

It's not a sane idea, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Benny puts the dough in a bowl and covers it with a damp cloth. "Brother, you know that this is stupid."

Dean nods miserably. "I know, but this is a really good school, and a great opportunity, and... come on, you don't have to actually do anything except show up at a few faculty functions with me, and then you can come back here."

Benny raises an eyebrow as he washes his hands. The yeasty smell of the bread he's working on fills the kitchen, and Dean's mouth begins to water. "And what will you tell them when I stop going to the functions with you?"

Dean slumps even further onto the counter. "I'll..." he pauses and thinks for a moment, because he hadn't really planned that far ahead. "Ok, so you'll be my fiancé, and I'll just tell them that you called off the wedding. Left me at the altar."

Affronted, Benny puts his hands on his hips. "Brother, I would never leave you at the altar. I'm not that kind of man." Of course Benny's right, he's not that kind of man. He's the kind of man who will stick by your side no matter the problem, and he won't leave until everything has been fixed. This is a bad idea, and it has disaster written all over it.

"Look, um. Just forget I said anything. I'll figure something else out."

Benny doesn't reply, wiping down the counter with a stern expression on his face. He cleans up the spilled flour and puts away all of the clean utensils. There's a tense silence as he finishes up. He wipes his hands on the towel before folding it neatly and hanging it over the rail for the oven. "I'll do it."

"What?" Dean asks.

"I'll do it. I'll pretend to be your fiancé for some faculty functions and I'll make you look "family friendly" and I'll even do a couple of public displays of affection for you." Benny pauses. "On one condition."

Dean ignores the swooping in his belly at Benny's mention of public displays of affection and tries to focus on what Benny's saying. "What's the condition?" Dean winces at the eagerness he hears in his voice.

"You have to call Sam." Benny folds his arms over his chest and sends a challenging look at his friend. 

Dean's mouth is already open to agree, because he needs this job, he wants this job, but when he hear's Benny's condition, he shuts it with a click. He shakes his head while he tries to find his voice again. "What? No. He's the one who left, he's the one who needs to call me."

Benny stands in front of Dean and puts his hands on Dean's shoulders, looking him square in the eye. "He's your brother, and you miss him. You've been moping around for months. You're older, you're the adult. Act like it."

Dean scowls, irritated at the route the conversation has taken. Because he knows all of this, he's told himself it over and over again, but that doesn't mean that he actually wants to hear it from Benny. Even if Benny's right. Benny's frequently right, and it's annoying sometimes. It's annoying a lot of the time. But he's asking Benny to do a pretty big favor, so this is probably a small price to pay. 

Besides, Dean knows what's going to happen - he's going to call up Sam, and Sam's not going to answer his phone because he'll recognize Dean's number. And things will continue as they have been all along. 

"Fine," Dean says. Benny startles, like he hadn't been expecting Dean to actually agree, and then a broad grin breaks out across his face.

"Perfect. So, when's our debut as a couple?" Benny asks. Dean tells him about the faculty reception that's in a few days, and Benny promises to clean up and put on his best pair of jeans.

"Benny," Dean says. "It's a black tie affair." Benny complains about having to wearing a tuxedo for about ten minutes, but Dean knows he's secretly pleased - Benny's been wanting to find an excuse to wear his tuxedo again forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wipes his damp palms on the legs of his pants once more. Benny's kept him waiting in his living room for ten minutes. When he opened the door and saw Dean standing on his doorstep, his eyes widened comically as he ushered Dean into his small apartment. Admonishing Dean to wait, he'd dashed off before Dean could even respond. Dean had been nervous enough about the entire evening, and now his nerves were ratcheted up to the point where Dean thought he might actually have to change into something new. He chews on his lip and resists the urge to holler down the hallway to get Benny to hurry up.

Another five minutes passes with Dean beating a new path in Benny's living room carpet. He'd memorized the pattern there by now, and was beginning to recognize the purposeful errors woven in. He hears Benny coming down the hall, the smart click of dress shoes on the wooden floor of the hallway and the rustle of fabric. Dean turns to catch his friend entering the living room and sucks in a breath. 

Benny in a tuxedo is a sight to behold. His broad shoulders fill out the jacket, which hugs his chest and waist neatly, not too tight. Dean's throat is suddenly dry, so he clears it. Benny's eyebrows draw together.

"What?" Benny asks. "Do I have something on my face?" He wipes at his cheek, searching for some invisible piece of dirt that might mar his complexion.

Dean chuckles. "No, you look... you look good." Dean straightens his own jacket, suddenly self-conscious about his rental tux. Benny had his tailor-made for his niece's wedding, and the suit fits like he was poured into it. Dean's rental, however, had come with a funky odor that he'd had to dry clean to remove, and even still, when he moves, a faint remnant of the odor wafts ups to his nostrils.

Benny gives Dean an appraising eye. "So do you. If you're going to a lot of these black tie affairs for this job though, you're gonna need your own tux, brother."

Dean grimaces. "Let me get the job first."

They drive to the campus, about an hour away from Benny's apartment. Dean's quiet for the first part of the drive, but then he realizes that they have to come up with some kind of story. They can't just go into this blind. 

"We have to come up with a 'how we met' story," Dean says, his focus on the road ahead intent.

"What's wrong with just using the way we actually met as our story? You came into my diner and had an orgasm over my pie." The face Dean makes makes Benny snort with laughter. Benny spreads his hands placatingly and says, "I won't say orgasm. But I don't see why we can't just say we met in my restaurant."

Dean doesn't have to think about this for very long before he's nodding his head. "Yeah, ok. But they might end up asking you to bake something for them."

"Bonus. I'll get some new business out of this too." Benny grins, his white teeth bright in the darkened interior of the Impala. "We'll have to tell them how you asked me to marry you, though."

Dean splutters. "Wait. Who says I asked you to marry me? Why didn't you do the asking?"

Benny considers this notion for a little bit, and then says, "I'm a traditional kind of guy, Dean. I think I'd wait until someone asked me, rather than doing the asking." He pauses for a beat and then says, "And none of this 'hey, you wanna get hitched' over pancakes or anything. I want the whole nine yards. Fancy candlelit dinner, romantic spot, kneeling on one knee." Benny's laugh echoes through the car. "Hey, I figure that this is probably the only marriage proposal I'm gonna get, Dean. You need to do right by me."

"I'm beginning to rethink this whole relationship," Dean mutters, which only makes Benny laugh harder. 

They spend the rest of the drive hammering out the details of the proposal, and Dean's cheeks are flaming with anticipatory embarrassment by the time Benny's satisfied with the story. 


	3. Chapter 3

The reception is in the atrium of the History department building. By the time Dean and Benny arrive, the party has just about taken off, with members of the faculty milling about, glasses of white wine in their hands. Waiters circulate around the room with trays of hors d'oeuvres and more wine, and the tinkle of laughter fills the air. It looks like the entire department and all their spouses are in attendance. Dean's nerves are back with reinforcements, and he grabs a glass off the tray of a passing waiter. He tries not to gulp the wine down too fast, but when Benny gently removes the glass from his hand, Dean's dismayed to see that it's mostly empty. 

Benny puts the glass down on one of the tables along the side of the atrium. "Come on, introduce me to the head of the department so I can charm the pants off of him." He places his hand on the small of Dean's back and steers Dean across the hall. When it becomes clear that Benny has no idea who the department head is, Dean rolls his eyes and takes Benny's hand off his back. Clasping their fingers together with a bit of trepidation, he leads Benny in the right direction. He studiously ignores Benny's huff of mocking laughter.

The department head is tall and lanky, with a flirtatious smile. He’s good looking and has a boisterous laugh. Several people stand around him as he regales them with a tale about one of his students. Dean jumps in when there’s a pause in the conversation.

"Dr. Balthazar deRoche, this is my fiancé, Benny LaFitte," Dean says, and he's proud of the fact that he only stumbles slightly over calling Benny his fiancé. He's going to have to get better at that if they're going to pull this off.

Dr. deRoche face lights up. He holds out a hand to Benny, and when Benny returns the gesture, he closes both of his hands over Benny's. "Delighted to meet you! We're very impressed with your Dean here, and we're hoping that he decides to come and work with us. I think our students will learn a lot from him," Dr. deRoche says, pumping Benny's hand with enthusiasm.

"Well now, I'm sure that Dean can be convinced," Benny drawls. He gives an exaggerated wink to the other man. "He's been talking about nothing else but your fine school ever since he came back from the interview. This is a beautiful building." It's the perfect thing to say, because it draws Dr. deRoche into a long dissertation about the history of the building, and before Dean knows it, a good ten minutes of pleasant conversation have passed. 

Dr. deRoche winds up his last point about the marble and why it's different colors when a beautiful woman with long red hair joins them. Her skin is translucent and glowing, and she bestows a brilliant smile on Dr. deRoche.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce my wife, Anna Milton?" Dr. deRoche says, sliding an arm around her waist. "She's the head of our classics department. Anna, this is that young teacher I was telling you about, Dean Winchester, and his fiancé, Benny LaFitte." 

Anna extends a long, graceful hand to Dean and then to Benny, smiling and murmuring her greetings to both of them. They exchange a few more pleasantries, and then Anna turns to her husband and says, "It's time for your speech." Dr. deRoche eyes widen, and he slaps his chest with first his left hand, then his right. Color drains from his face when that doesn't seem to net him what he's looking for, and then he scrambles into the pockets of his jacket.

"Ahem," Anna says, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her purse. She holds it up between the first two fingers of her right hand.

"Oh darling, you are a treasure," Dr. deRoche says, and he kisses her ostentatiously on her cheek. He plucks the speech from her fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You wouldn't be head of the history department, dear. Now go." She gives him a gentle shove towards the middle of the atrium, where he calls for attention. His speech is short, the usual thanks for everyone's attendance, with heavy emphasis on one or two people who donated generous amounts of money to the department. Watching Dr. deRoche speak, Dean sees the nervous academic beneath a thinly fashioned veneer of confidence, one clearly shored up by his glamorous wife, who smiles at him over the edge of her champagne glass. Dean's comforted to see that while certain appearances seem very important to the department, they're not overly stuffy. Dean breathes in and then exhales slowly, the tension bleeding away from his body. 

Benny flashes a small smile at him, and then leans down and presses a soft kiss to the side of Dean's mouth. "You're doing great," Benny says under his breath. 

Dean freezes.

Because suddenly, this whole 'fake engagement' is a little more real. Of course there's going to have to be some touching and affection, and what the hell was he thinking? This is Benny, his closest friend, and what has he done? What has Dean asked of his friend, and how can Dean have been so thoughtless? Dean's shoulders rise again, reaching toward the bottoms of his earlobes. 

"Stop," Benny says, murmuring in Dean's ears. He massages the back of Dean's neck lightly, his fingers warm and comforting as they rest at Dean's nape. "I think deRoche is about to offer you a job, so look sharp." 

The warm press of Benny against his side helps Dean calm down again, just in time to hear deRoche say, "And I'm so glad everyone is here to meet who I hope will be our newest faculty member, Dean Winchester. Dean, come on over and meet the department." DeRoche searches over the heads of the people standing between him and Dean, who lifts his hand in a half wave. He makes his way over to deRoche, a smile trembling about his lips as the people stare curiously at him. He tells himself he can do all of this, the job, the fake engagement, all of it. When he looks over at Benny smiling at him, he almost believes it, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean hefts a box of books into his arms and uses his hip to close the door of the Impala. He turns to face the building where his new office will be, and feels a flutter of... something. Nervousness? Probably. Excitement? Definitely. The semester doesn't start for another week, and there's a lot to do, but he's been looking forward to this moment - when he can step into the hall of an academic building and say that he belongs there as a member of the faculty. 

Hitching the box up a bit more for better balance, Dean walks into the building. It's cool and dark in comparison with outside, where the late August sun blazes down on the concrete and asphalt. Dean knows that behind the building is a quad where lots of students hang out during the nice days in the fall and spring, grass covered with scattered chairs and tables. He considers taking his lunch out there later on in the day, but then dismisses the idea immediately after. It's going to be a scorcher today.

There's a note on the door to his office, hastily taped just beneath the number (42, Dean notes with a snort), and he sets the box down on the ground to take it off the door. Inside is a key to the office and a scrawled, "welcome aboard" signed by deRoche. Actually, the signature reads, "Balthazar", but Dean doesn't yet feel comfortable calling the head of his department by his first name. Dean can't quite figure out the appropriate level of casual versus formal that's part of the school's community.

He unlocks the door and lets it swing inward. His office is small, which he'd expected. One wall is taken up entirely by bookcases, and Dean grins. He's not sure whether he's expected to already have enough books to fill the shelves, or if it's something to which he should aspire, but in either case, he's thrilled to have a space all his own.

The other unexpected surprise is that there's a window just behind the ancient wooden desk. It looks out onto the quad, though for now the leaves on the tree just outside the window block his view. 

"Awesome," Dean says to himself. 

He sets about unpacking, and then, after about ten minutes of wrangling the school's internet system, he manages to get online. He downloads the syllabi samples deRoche - Balthazar - had sent him, and gets started on planning the fall semester.

Dean gets lost in the planning, and so he's startled when there's a soft tapping on the door jamb. He'd forgotten to close the door, and when he looks up, he sees Anna Milton leaning against the open door.

"Hi," he says, lowering the lid of his laptop. 

Anna comes in and settles in the old wooden office chair that faces the desk, presumably for students to sit in when they're having conferences. Dean makes a mental note to buy tissues; he's had enough experiences with crying students to know that it's a necessity of college life. 

Anna takes in the sparse decoration of Dean's office before speaking. "How are you settling in? Do you need help getting the rest of your boxes into the building?"

Warmth flood Dean's cheeks. "No, this is it. I don't have very much in the way of things." 

Anna nods and smiles, and it changes her face from haughty to something much more friendly. "Something to work on, then. Have you had lunch?"

Dean glances at his wristwatch and sees that it's past two. He'd been concentrating so hard on his work that he'd forgotten to eat. His stomach gives a loud rumble that makes Anna laugh. 

"I'm going to go with no. Would you like to join me at the student union building? They make a decent Reuben sandwich."

"No, thanks. My f-... Benny made me something." Dean holds up the paper bag that he'd picked up after breakfast at Benny's diner that morning. Benny would be scandalized if Dean ate cafeteria food instead of whatever it was that Benny had made for him. He cringes inwardly at his hesitation though, hoping that Anna hasn't caught the stumble over the word.

Anna's eyebrow lifts. "That's wonderful that he makes lunch for you. Does he do that often?"

Dean grins, feeling more comfortable talking about Benny's diner than the nature of their relationship, fake as it is. "Benny owns a diner. They've got the best pecan pie in the state. I get my lunch there every day. It's how we met, actually," Dean tacks on at the end, remembering that they're supposed to be a couple.

"Best in the state, huh? Well, Balthazar and I will have to come by and test that claim out. Well, I don't want to keep you from your lunch." Anna nods at the desk. "Or your work. You and Benny should come by for dinner soon, though."

Dean nods. "That would be great, thanks."

"How about in a couple of weeks? Middle of September?" Anna asks, and Dean's stomach sinks a bit, because he'd been hoping to avoid having to drag Benny along for social functions too much. He's already imposing so much as it is.

"I'll have to see if Benny's free."

Anna gets up from the chair, a graceful movement, and says, "Please do. We'd love to get to know him." She hesitates by the door. "Did Balthazar tell you about the campus housing available to faculty? It's generally expected that everyone lives on campus."

Dean tries not to let his surprise show as he shakes his head slowly, because no, this was not a piece of information that Balthazar had shared with him. He says as much, and Anna clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I didn't think he had. He can be pretty forgetful. Anyway, there's a small house on the other end of campus that I think you and Benny would like very much. We can get you some movers and have you moved in before the semester begins." She turns, her long red hair whirling behind her, and walks away. Dean waits until the tapping of her shoes against the marble flooring in the hallway fades before groaning and burying his face in his hands.

Of course it's more complicated than he'd originally thought. Benny's going to hate this.


	5. Chapter 5

"They want us to what?" Benny asks. Dean shifts the phone from one side to the other, and tilts his head so it's locked between his ear and his shoulder. He slams the door to the Impala shut and starts her up before answering. The resulting rumble as she leaps to life after the turn of his key soothes him to no end. 

"Live in on-campus housing," Dean finally says. He pulls away from the curb and heads home. He'd called Benny as soon as the day was done, needing to get out of the building before letting this particular bit of information drop on his friend. 

Benny sighs heavily on the other end of the line. "Dean," he starts to say, but Dean interrupts before he can get any further.

"Look, I know this is a big deal. I get that this is a stupid idea. You don't have to do it, but..." Dean chews his lip. "I'd really... appreciate it if you would. I'm sure there's more than one bedroom in the house, so you can have your own space. And it'll only be for a little while, maybe just a few weeks, and then we can..." here Dean pauses. "'Break up'." He's aware that he's babbling, filling the silence, but he doesn't know any other way of handling this. He wants this job, and he can't figure out another way to keep it.

"Dean." Benny's voice is sharp. "Shut up. I'll do it, okay." Dean heaves a huge sigh of relief. "Have you called Sam yet?" Benny asks, cutting off Dean's sigh.

"Uh... no, not yet," Dean says, rolling to a stop at a red light. He rubs his eyes. "I was going to..."

"There's no 'going to', Dean. Just do it. Like a band-aid, huh? Listen, I have to go."

"Wait," Dean says. "One more thing. Anna invited us to dinner with her and Balthazar in a couple weeks. You want to go?"

"Are you asking me on a date, Dean?" Benny asks, amusement lacing his voice. He doesn't give Dean a chance to answer. "I'm pretty sure I can do that. Call Sam." He hangs up before Dean can reply.

Dean rolls his eyes at the phone before tossing it onto the seat beside him. He spends the rest of his drive back to his apartment trying to come up with reasons why he can’t call Sam, but nothing plausible comes to mind.

When Sam had gone off to Stanford, he and their dad, John, had fought bitterly about it. Dean had stood to one side, trying to stay out of the conflict, but Sam had appealed to him for his support during one particularly nasty shouting match with John. Dean had looked between his father and his brother and been unable to say anything either way. Sam had thrown his hands up in the air and shouted "Oh, that's just great!" and stomped out of the house. He'd gone off to school shortly after that without a backwards glance. Dean had tried to contact Sam on a few occasions during that first fall, but Sam had been too angry to pick up the phone. He'd ignored all of Dean's messages, until, in mid October, he'd sent a text that just said, "Stop calling me."

Dean did as Sam had asked, although reluctantly. Over the course of the following few weeks, he'd spent a considerable amount of time staring at his phone, pulling up Sam's name, his thumb hovering over the send button. Each time, however, he'd set the phone aside and gone back to whatever it was he'd been doing. 

It's been just about a year, now, and Dean knows Benny's right. He should call Sam, he _needs_ to call Sam. He needs his brother in his life, and things aren't going to get better between them by themselves.

Dean sighs again as he pulls into his parking space in his apartment building. He trudges up the steps to his apartment, a dingy studio with a mostly functioning kitchen and a ratty couch where he sits and does his grading before reclining and pulling a blanket over himself for the night. It's definitely not much, and living on campus would have all kinds of advantages.

But Benny would be there too, and since the reception when Benny kissed him, even if it was just a harmless buss on the corner of his mouth, Dean's feelings about Benny are a riot of confusion. After they'd left the reception, they hadn't talked about it. Dean didn't know if that was because Benny didn't want to bring it up, or if Dean was just too chicken (probably the latter). He'd dropped Benny off at his place, and there'd been a moment of awkwardness before Benny had smiled and gotten out of the Impala.

Dean spent hours thinking about the kiss as he layin the couch, trying to sleep. The way Benny's beard had rubbed against his cheek, the scent of fried food and beneath it, an interesting blend of nutmeg and Old Spice that surrounded Dean. The corner of Dean's mouth burns with the memory of the kiss, the soft brush of Benny's lips against his own. The world had faded away to the point where the only thing that had registered was Benny.

It's very confusing.

And Dean's not sure if living in the same house with Benny would fix or exacerbate the problem. 

Chucking his bag onto the coffee table, Dean settles onto the couch. He's hungry, but there's nothing really worth eating in the fridge. Benny's warm voice echoes in his mind: "Call Sam." 

Dean leans forward to the table, meaning to grab his phone, but instead he picks up the remote control for the television, and he turns it on. Maybe there's a game he can watch while he gets his shit together.


	6. Chapter 6

Because this is the way his life just seems to go sometimes, moving day brings back the stifling heat and humidity. Dean's hands are slippery as he lifts boxes into the Impala, and sweat pours down his brow by the time he's loaded everything from his apartment into the car. When he arrives at the house, he sees that Benny's already there, unloading his truck. He lifts his hand in greeting when he sees Dean.

They move everything inside the small house as quickly as they can, and then stand in front of the window air conditioning unit trying to cool off. 

"Guess there's no central air," Dean says. "At least there's a window unit." He grins weakly, knowing that it's a small consolation in weather like this. They haven't even checked out the upstairs yet, and there's no telling what they'll find when they get up there.

"I get first dibs on the shower," Benny says, pointing at Dean. "It's only fair."

Dean briefly considers a flirtatious response about sharing the shower, but dismisses that. They might be holding hands and kissing for public consumption, but even mentioning showering together is a step too far. Benny gives him an odd look. Maybe even _thinking_ it is a bit too far. Benny troops up the stairs before Dean can make any kind of response, and Dean tilts his head, the edges of his mouth turned down. Probably for the best, he thinks.

"Dean!" Benny yells. 

"What?" Dean yells back.

"Get up here."

Dean takes the steps two at a time. Benny's waiting for him on the landing, his hands on his hips. He points wordlessly to the two doors that open up onto the small hallway. Dean opens one door; the bathroom. The other door is the master bedroom with a king sized bed dwarfing the center of the room. Like the living room and dining room, the house has minimal furnishings already. Anna had explained that they make sure that young faculty have the basics provided for them, since the salary doesn't pay very much.

"Only one bedroom," Dean says, though it's not really necessary. 

"Don't suppose you brought that lumpy couch of yours," Benny says, but his tone indicates that he already knows the answer. 

Dean gives it anyway. "No, sorry. It's falling apart."

Benny sighs. He enters the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. The bed is enormous, really, wide enough for three people to sleep next to each other cozily. Benny's face takes on a speculative look. 

"C'mere," Benny says after a minute.

"What? Why?" Dean asks, smiling nervously.

"Just... come here." Benny scoots back so he's leaning against the headboard of the bed. He pats the space on the bed next to him. "Sit."

"What am I, a dog?" Dean says, but he does as he's asked. He mimic's Benny's position, and looks over at his friend, an expectant look on his face.

Benny returns the look across the wide space between the two of them. The space that could fit another grown person in between them. "Well brother, unless you kick in your sleep, we should be able to manage okay. Don't you think?"

Dean can think of about twelve reasons why this is a bad idea, most of which have to do with the way his stomach's been flip flopping every time he sees Benny these days, or the way that he looks forward to Benny grabbing his hand when they're with other members of the faculty. He keeps his mouth shut though, and just shrugs, hoping for nonchalant. "Sure." 

"Great," Benny grins. He hops off the bed. "We should probably turn on that AC unit. I'm going to catch a shower. I'll leave you some hot water."

Dean groans. "I don't want hot water, you can have it all." Dean gives himself an experimental sniff. "Just hurry!"

* * *

 

They order out, neither of them willing to add any more heat to the bottom floor of the house by cooking. They're also exhausted from the moving, and it takes just about every single ounce of strength that Dean has left to lift his chopsticks. He gives up on using them after several failed attempts at getting the broccoli and beef into his mouth. There's more of the sauce on his shirt than there is in his stomach. Benny snorts in laughter when Dean drops the chopsticks onto the dining room table in disgust.

"Not exactly the way a young professor should behave, is it?" Benny asks. He's still laughing.

"Shut up," Dean says. He doesn't have a better comeback than that, so he eats a bite of rice as he pouts. 

When they can't keep their eyes open any longer, they stumble upstairs and get ready for bed. They stand on either side of the bed in the cool of the air conditioned bedroom, and hesitantly lift up the covers. 

"We're kind of being idiots about this, aren't we?" Dean asks after a moment where neither one of them moves towards the bed. He's a little surprised that Benny didn't just get right into bed, since this was his idea.

"Hmph. You more than me, brother." To prove his point, Benny sits down on the edge of the bed and swings his legs up. He lies down and pulls the sheet up over him. He turns his head to face Dean, his eyes glittering in the glow of the one bedside lamp that's still lit. Dean hesitates another moment, and then he, too, gets under the covers. He flips off the light and settles down.

Dean spends a good fifteen minutes hyper aware of the fact that he's sharing a bed with Benny. Every twitch and snuffle that Benny makes jars him out of the slow drag of sleep. He tries counting sheep, but gives up after about ten of them, really not sure why anyone thinks that it's a valid method of inducing sleep..

Eventually, Dean drifts off to sleep. When he wakes, there's a thin strip of sunlight shining under the shade and a very large lump pressed against him. 

Benny.

Dean rolls his eyes heavenward. And he was worried he was going to be the one to violate the no man's land of bed between them. After a moment he figures out that Benny's rolled to the center of the bed, and that they're lying back-to-back. Dean lies as still as he can, hoping that Benny will wake up and figure out what's happened. Then Benny can deal with the awkwardness and roll away. If Dean rolls over at this point, Benny's going to fall over and wake up.

He doesn't have long to wait.

"I know you're awake," Benny says in a voice cragged with sleep. "I can practically hear you thinking."

"You're close enough," Dean says before he can think to stop himself. "Oh man, I'm sorry."

Benny laughs, a big rich chuckle. "It's all good, Dean. Come on, time to get up."

"What do you mean? It's Sunday."

"Yep. Today is picnic day. We gotta stop by the diner. Celebrate your new job with great food and maybe some frisbee."

Dean groans. "It's five thousand degrees outside, Benny." How is this a conversation he's having? While he's in bed?

"I think it's only supposed to be four thousand today. You'll be fine. Playing frisbee and eating fried chicken is a lot more fun than moving boxes, trust me." Benny rolls over to his side of the bed. "Come on Sleeping Beauty."

Dean resists the temptation to stick his tongue out at his friend.

Barely.

* * *

Of course, Benny was right, not that Dean would admit that to him. The weather wasn't as hot, and they found a park with a fountain designed especially for people to run through on hot days. It was crowded, lots of little kids screeching as they get caught by sudden bursts of water shooting up out of the concrete. Dean and Benny spend a good forty-five minutes watching the children running back and forth and laughing with them as they cool off. 

Over some of the best fried chicken Dean's ever had (and that's saying something, he's eaten a lot of Benny's fried chicken), Benny tilts his bottle of water in his directions. "Congratulations, brother. I know how much this job means to you."

Dean returns the gesture with his own bottle of water. "Thanks to you, Benny. I wouldn't have this job if it weren't for you."

Benny puts down his water bottle and looks at Dean, his expression serious. "No. Dean, you got this job because you're a good researcher and an even better teacher, and that Balthazar guy saw that. I only helped you with one of the pre-requisites."

Dean looks down at his hands, not really knowing what to do with the compliment. Benny's generally not the kind of person to spread around compliments, and Dean definitely doesn't know how to take them when they're tossed his way. He so rarely hears them that he usually brushes them off as not true.

"I mean it, Dean." Benny angles his head down so he can look up at Dean, catch his eye. Dean tries not to get caught in Benny's gaze, but it's hard not to. He mumbles something that could be construed as agreement, and fiddles with the label on his water bottle until Benny grunts and looks away. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean's first day of classes goes better than he'd expected, almost better than he could have hoped for. His introduction to western civilization course was decent sized, for an introductory course - only forty students. He probably would be able to manage having them write papers every other week and get them the feedback they needed.

Maybe.

His other Monday course - a history of South Africa - was a much smaller seminar, and several of the students looked promising - eager to learn more about the topic and to contribute to the discussions he'd planned on having. He handed out the syllabi in both classes, gone over them, and then given a brief "getting to know the topic" lecture. 

He walks back to his office - slightly giddy that he has such a space that he can call _his_ , and dumps his leather satchel on the desk. He peels off his grey tweed suit jacket and slides it over the back of his chair. He doesn't have much to do in terms of administrative stuff or even grading or planning - he's planned out a good two weeks in advance. So for once, he doesn't really have much to do. He shuffles around his office for a little while before giving up - he can’t really claim that he’s got anything productive to do, this once, so he heads home.

It’s weird thinking about the tiny house as home - until the tiny apartment he used to have, he’d never really had a permanent home. Moving from one place to another trailing after Dad, Sam in tow, meant that the idea of home wasn’t so much a place as it was _people_. But now he's got something more stable, something a little bit more permanent. It's got real furniture and a kitchen sink that doesn't block up every other day. And it has Benny. It really only needs one more thing - Sam - to be perfect.

* * *

 

They fall into a routine over the next week or so. Dean gets home in the late afternoon and makes something for dinner for the two of them. Benny likes to cook most of the time, but Dean ends up insisting. 

“You’re doing me a favor by living here, Benny. Least I can do,” Dean says. There’s an open floor plan between the kitchen and the dining room, so the cook can be in the kitchen working while the guests can sit at the table in the dining room. Creating a divider between the two rooms stands the best counter space for working, and Dean can face Benny in the dining room while he chops vegetables and preps the chicken for dinner. Benny sits at the dining room table, a bemused expression on his face.

“I like cooking, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “I know that. But you cook all day. I don’t mind, and it’ll give you a chance to be off your feet for a little while.”

Benny folds his arms across his chest. “You tryin’ to take care of me?”

Dean snorts. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Benny relents after a few more half hearted arguments, and so Dean’s the one in charge of dinner. Benny usually gets home when Dean’s about half way through prepping dinner, so he washes up and then sits in the dining room watching Dean cook the rest of the meal. The rhythm of preparing the food relaxes Dean; the chopping and slicing has a natural beat to it, and he hums while he works. 

Sometimes, though, they work together. Benny comes home from the diner early with a couple of grocery bags full of vegetables and meats that he places reverently on the counter. Those nights, Benny and Dean stand elbow-to-elbow, and the kitchen fills with the scent of spices - pepper and smoky sausage. Dean's appreciation of Benny's cooking borders on the obscene, groaning in delight as the flavors burst on his tongue. 

"I could get used to this," Dean says at the end of one meal he and Benny had prepared. He's leaning back in the chair, trying to make as much room as possible for his stomach, which is a little bloated he's so full. His belly is warm, his heart is full and he couldn't possibly move from this spot even if there were an incoming nuclear attack.

"What's that?" Benny asks. He's got a sly smile on his face like he knows what Dean's going to say, but wants Dean to be the one to say it.

"This." Dean waves his hand between the two of them. "You, me, this house. Cooking together on a regular basis." He shrugs. He probably sounds like an ass, but, on the average, it's been a pretty good day, and he lets his mouth engage before his brain does.

Benny seems closer somehow, his bulky frame fitting into Dean's space. Dean inhales Benny's Old Spice. Benny takes a long time to respond to Dean, but when he does, his voice is deep and husky. "Yeah. Me too." It's so quiet that Dean's not entirely sure that he's heard it. They sit together in the kitchen for a long time in companionable silence. They're both startled by the ringing of Benny's cell phone - one of his employees with a question about the schedule for the next week.

Dean takes the interruption as an opportunity to clean the dishes from dinner and head upstairs for a shower. When he gets out of the shower, Benny's already in bed, reading a magazine. He nods at Dean in greeting, and Dean gets into bed on his own side.

Since the first night they shared the bed, there'd been no untoward touching. Dean's really not sure why he feels a bit bereft about that, but he tries not to examine that feeling too much. There's something dangerous about taking a long hard look at feelings, and he doesn't want to mess up this friendship. 

What happened at dinner tonight was just the two of them expressing deep friendly regard for each other.

Dean's sure of it.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Benny calls just as one of Dean’s classes end. He’s waving goodbye to the last student when his phone rings, and he picks up with a smile.

“Dean,” Benny says, and he sounds distracted.

Warmth fills Dean’s belly. “Hey, Benny. How's it going?"

Benny sighs. “Not great, Dean. I can’t come to dinner on Friday night.”

Dean switches the phone to the other side of his head. “What? Why?”

Benny hesitates. “It’s Caroline. She’s gone again, and I’ve got to go get Elizabeth, look after her.” Understanding dawns, and Dean winces. Caroline, Benny’s sister, has a habit of disappearing at irregular intervals, leaving her high school aged daughter behind to fend for herself. Benny tends to be close-mouthed about his sister. He never reveals why she takes off or where she goes, but Dean knows it tears Benny up to see how it affects his niece. 

“Oh man,” Dean says. “Don’t worry about it. Take care of Elizabeth.” A thought occurs to him. “Do you want to bring her to stay with us? For a couple of days?”

Dean hears Benny’s sharp inhale. “You think that’s a good idea?” Benny asks. “She needs to be in school, Dean.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. But she can’t stay by herself,” Dean explains. He slings his satchel over his shoulder and turns out the lights in the classroom.

“I know that, Dean,” Benny says, and it’s the closest to irritable Dean’s ever heard Benny be. “I’m going to stay at Caroline’s place while she’s gone.”

Dean’s chest feels like ice. “Oh,” he says, because he’s not the kind of ass who would say that Benny shouldn’t take care of his family. Dean gets that family’s important - his own family is - was - the most important thing to him. “Okay, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” There’s a muffled voice on the other end. “Listen, I gotta go.”

“Okay, Benny. Talk to you later,” Dean says, but he’s talking to dead air - Benny’s already hung up. Dean stares at the phone for a moment, feeling like the rug’s been yanked out from beneath him.

* * *

 

It’s weird coming home to the empty house. It’s still the same size, but the rooms have grown with Benny’s absence. Dean’s footsteps echo in the hallway, and every tick, hum and creak of the old house is magnified. Dean hadn’t noticed how noisy the house was before.

But Dean tries not to let himself be distracted by it. He does have work to do.

He spreads out on the dining room table, because Benny’s not there to complain about it, and he manages about forty minutes of productive work before the emptiness of the house gets to him. 

Dean slams his book shut and stretches, working the kinks out of his back. He looks around the dining room, taking in the worn, but well-cared for furniture, none of which is either his style or Benny’s.

Dean packs up his work and does the dishes in a desultory fashion, resenting the loneliness that’s settled in. He calls Anna and lets her know that Benny can’t make dinner, and while she sounds disappointed, she insists that Dean come anyway. “We want to get to know you!”

Dean agrees, even though it’s going to be awkward. With Benny to shore him up, he feels like he can pull off the fake marriage thing. Without Benny, well.

The rest of the week passes as it began - Dean slowly getting acclimated to the new position. He sees students during office hours, quite a number of them female, and Dean is suddenly grateful for the policy about married faculty. he’s even more grateful that Benny had insisted on buying rings. Even if they were second hand and had cost very little money. At first the golden band had rested heavily on Dean’s finger. Accusatory, catching the corner of his eye and winking in the sunlight: _you only have this job because of a lie_. But as the days wear on, Dean sees the ring more like part of a uniform, like the tweed jacket and navy sweater vest that Victor had insisted he buy last year.

Dean, of course, had resisted. Tweed, and a sweater vest? Why not slap on corduroy elbow patches too? Round out the stereotypical absent-minded professor.

Victor had snorted with laughter. “Man, there is no way anyone on this planet would mistake you for an absent-minded professor.”

Charlie, who was along on the shopping expedition - for the laughs, she’d said - piped up. “True facts, Dean. Hot professor, not absent-minded.”

Dean flushes at the memory - much as he’d done when he’d heard Charlie’s words. Victor and Charlie had both hooted with laughter, finding the whole situation uproariously funny.

Not that Dean will ever admit it, but they’d been right. The jacket, sweater vest, leather satchel and even the ring are all part of the uniform that Dean wears. Armor that he layers on in the morning as he prepares to do educational battle.

Benny’s absence is a tiny chink in that armor, though, and Dean doesn’t know if it’s because of how it looks, or how it makes Dean feel.

* * *

 

Dinner with Anna and Balthazar is not nearly as painful as Dean had expected. Anna expresses disappointment that Benny can't join them, but nods understandingly when Dean explains that there’s a family emergency. He’s all thumbs, waiting too long to pick up the correct fork because he’s watching to see which one Balthazar and Anna use. Benny would have known immediately that Dean had no idea what to do when confronted with three of each kind of silverware, and he would have guided Dean silently. It’s not as if Dean’s never eaten in a fancy restaurant before, but he’s already thrown off by the lie, which sits in the middle of the table like a giant elephant in the room, obscuring everything. Dean’s afraid that every time Anna clears her throat, she’s going to call him out on it, and Balthazar will fire him on the spot.

Dean manages to stumble through the evening. He’s polite and holds up his end of the conversation, and only once surreptitiously checks his watch. He’s sure that while he’s at this dinner that Benny will call and Dean will miss it. 

Soon enough, Balthazar signals that he’s tired, and begins clearing away the dishes. Anna throws him an annoyed look, but she follows suit, and Dean helps them bring everything into their immaculate kitchen. Balthazar shows him to the door and claps him on the back.

“Good to see you, Dean. I’m hearing good things from your students. Keep up the good work!” Balthazar says as he ushers Dean out through the front door. The door closes behind Dean with a final click, and Dean’s blessedly, hopelessly, alone again.

He walks slowly back to the tiny house a few blocks over. Now that he’s free from the dinner party and can go home, like he’d been wishing all evening, he’s reluctant to do so. He drags his feet, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

The house is dark and empty when Dean gets there, and he lets himself in with a sigh. What did he do before moving in with Benny? It’s not like Dean’s never been alone before. Somehow this time is different though. Close living, as he’d shared with Benny over the last couple of weeks, had been something he’d gotten used to. Even when they had their own work to do - Benny pouring over the diner’s books, his reading glasses perched at the tip of his nose, Dean preparing a lecture or doing research - they’d had the comfort of each other’s presence. 

Dean tosses his keys onto the small table they’d placed by the front door for that purpose, and lets the door fall shut behind him. He doesn’t bother turning on the hall light, instead trudging up the stairs to their - his? - bedroom. He changes into pajama pants and flops face down on the bed with a groan. If nothing else, the bed is super comfortable, and he’s going to take advantage of the fact that currently, he’s its only occupant.


	9. Chapter 9

He’s woken by the rattling of his cellphone as it buzzes on the night stand. Lifting up onto his elbows, and leans over and grabs the phone, picking up the call just before it goes to voicemail.

“‘Lo?” he says. He squints against the bright light of the phone’s display.

“Hey, Dean.” It’s Benny. He sounds tired, but good. Dean peers over at the clock on the nightstand and is surprised to see that he’s only been sleeping for about an hour and a half. It’s only midnight.

“Hey Benny, how are you? How’s Elizabeth?” Dean asks, scrubbing his face to try to wake himself up a bit.

Benny sighs. “Angry. At her mom, at me.”

“Benny, I’m sorry, man.”

Benny makes an irritated sound. “Not your fault, Dean. I’m checking in. How’d dinner with the boss go?”

Dean chuckles. Of course Benny’s checking up on him like this. Benny’s sister has done a runner, he’s looking after his teenaged niece, and of course Benny’s worried about Dean. This is how Benny copes. he looks after everyone else, and makes sure that everyone else’s needs are met. Dean gives Benny what he wants. “There were four forks, man.”

Benny laughs, and Dean feels a bit cozier, a little bit more whole. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you out, brother.”

“I figured it out eventually. Anna’s a decent enough cook, but she makes everything really high class. Seems a waste of fancy, if you ask me.”

Benny’s warm chuckle fills Dean’s ear, sends comfort down his spine. “You might learn to appreciate fancy things someday,” Benny says, and Dean hums in response, neither an agreement nor a disagreement.

“You guys need anything? Tomorrow’s Saturday, I could do a grocery run and then come over and hang out,” Dean asks. “We could barbecue or something. Might help take Elizabeth’s mind off things.”

“Hm,” Benny says, thoughtful for a moment. “That sounds like a good idea, actually.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, old man,” Dean says, mock insulted.

“Yes, dear,” Benny replies, his tone teasing. They tease each other back and forth for a few minutes, and then Benny says he has to go. He hesitates before saying, “Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Dean.” He hangs up before Dean can respond.

* * *

 

Benny’s sister lives in a small two bedroom apartment about forty-five minutes away from Benny’s diner. It’s one of those apartment buildings where the apartments look out onto an interior courtyard. At one point, there might have been a pool in the center of the court yard, but now there’s only a garden run rampant. One of the older couples that live down the hall from Caroline take care of the garden as best they can, but it’s determined to head toward jungle status. The entire apartment building has the air of neglect about it - it’s taken care of just enough so that it doesn’t fall down around anyone’s ears, but there are no frills about it.

Dean knocks on the door, stifling the nervous flutter in his stomach. It’s not like Elizabeth has never met him before. The last time they’d hung out had been a happier one for Benny’s niece - they’d gone to a baseball game and eaten so much food that all three of them had to undo the top button on their jeans. Discretely, of course.

It takes a long time for someone to open the door, and when Elizabeth finally does, Dean flinches. Her face is stormy, bright red with tear tracks on her cheeks. She scowls when she sees Dean, although she does hold the door open for him. He steps inside and lifts up the grocery bags he’s holding.

“Brought the fixings for some barbecue. Thought we could make a day of it,” he says, forcing a bright smile.

Elizabeth snorts and says, “Whatever.” She stomps back to her room, not even bothering to say anything that would let Benny know that Dean was there. The layout of the apartment is a pretty standard one, so Dean heads into the kitchen and starts putting away the groceries. He can hear the shower running, so he figures Benny’ll be out in a bit. 

Dean’s bending over to get a pot out of one of the lower cabinets when he hears a low whistle from the entrance to the kitchen. His cheeks flush hot and he nearly drops the pot as he hastens to stand up straight. Benny’s leaning against the doorway, a grin on his face. 

“Didn’t hear the door,” Benny says. “You wear those jeans for me?”

Dean looks down, and kind of shrugs, because he hadn’t been thinking about anything in particular when he picked out his clothing that morning - he rarely does, honestly. But here’s Benny frankly admiring his ass, Dean’s face bright red and he has to shake his head to remind himself that they’re just friends. They’re pretending to be a couple, and they aren’t actually one.

Plus, Benny’s niece is just down the hallway, and she’s already pissed off.

Dean grunts and puts the pot on top of the counter. “Thought we could do barbecue spareribs. Was going to start the sauce.”

Benny pushes off the wall and opens the fridge to see what Dean brought with him. Now that Benny’s called attention to Dean’s attire, Dean can’t help but stare as Benny bends over, his own ass filling out his pants nicely. Dean stifles a groan. _The marriage thing is a fake, remember?_

Reminding himself doesn’t seem to help, not when Benny’s wearing cargo shorts and is barefoot. Something about Benny’s bare toes appeals to Dean, not that he can figure out what it is. 

“Looks good, brother,” Benny says, pulling his head out of the fridge. “Let’s see what we can whip up.”

They fall into a rhythm working next to each other, slicing, dicing and chopping. Benny doesn’t say anything about his niece, so Dean doesn’t bring it up. They work in silence, mostly, except where it’s necessary to ask for something else to chop, or to check on how much of an ingredient needs to go into the pot.

When the sauce is simmering, filling Benny’s apartment with the rich scent of barbecue and spices, Elizabeth ventures out of her room. She’s still scowling, but her face has been scrubbed clean, and her eyes are no longer red. She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the two of them as they clean up in the kitchen.

“Smells good,” she admits after a moment. 

Benny flashes her a bright smile. “Gonna taste even better. What do you think for dessert?”

Elizabeth considers for a minute, and then says, “Ice cream.” She pauses. “Triple chocolate.”

“Excellent choice. You want to go pick it up from the store?” Benny’s already digging his wallet out of his back pocket.

“I can’t drive your truck, Benny,” Elizabeth says, her fingers twisting together.

“Pretty sure the bodega at the corner sells triple chocolate. Promise.” Benny hands her a crumpled twenty. “Go on now. Make sure you get enough for piggy over here,” Benny jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Dean, who lets out a surprised yelp of protest. “If you only get one container, there ain’t going to be enough for all of us.”

Elizabeth looks skeptical at this, eyeing Dean, but something in the way Benny’s grinning seems to loosen the tension in her shoulders, and she nods. She whirls around, her long blonde pony tail whipping through the air, and is out of the apartment before Benny can add anything else to the grocery list.

They finish cleaning up the kitchen, and Benny grabs a couple of beers. Shooing Dean into the living room in front of him, Benny opens both bottles and hands one to Dean. Caroline’s living room is sparsely furnished - just one chair that’s really meant to be a dining chair and a narrow loveseat. Benny flops down on the loveseat, so Dean takes the dining chair. He sips at the cold beer thoughtfully, wondering what’s going through Benny’s head.

He doesn’t have long to wonder. “You call Sam yet?” Benny asks.

Dean shakes his head. In all honesty, he’s been too busy the last few days, with planning and grading, so it’s fallen by the wayside. He says as much to Benny, who grunts in disapproval.

“Call him,” Benny says. Dean opens his mouth to protest, and Benny repeats emphatically, “Call. Sam ** _._** ”

Dean glares, but nods, remembering that had been part of the bargain. Benny might be living here with Elizabeth, but he’d played his part of fiance well enough at the reception to get Dean his job. He owes Benny enough to make the attempt.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says.

Benny gives a disbelieving huff. “That’s what you said the last time.”

“Yeah, Benny. I said I’ll do it, and I’ll do it,” Dean says, trying not to let his temper flare. Benny’s dealing with enough. “How’s Elizabeth holding up?” Benny blinks at the subject change, but doesn’t call Dean on it.

“Like I said, she’s angry. Thinks that I’m the reason her mom’s gone, so she’s putting up a hell of a stink on a regular basis. But she’s going to school, so she’s got some semblance of normality.” Benny leans forward, picking at the label on the beer bottle. “I’m sorry about this, Dean. I know I promised that I’d help you with the job thing, but...” 

“Family comes first, Benny, I get it.” Dean holds up his hand to forestall anything else from Benny. His friend has done so much for him, has always been there for Dean. Dean can work around Benny’s absence, and making sure that Elizabeth’s taken care of is more important. Dean knows all of these things, understands how important family is - he just wishes that he didn’t feel that tiny kernel of disappointment whenever he heads back to the empty house on the tree-lined street on campus.

Elizabeth returns in short order, carrying three half gallons of triple chocolate ice cream just beginning to melt. She inhales deeply when she enters the apartment. “I can smell it down the walkway, Uncle Benny.” The walk seems to have done her some good, or maybe it’s just the thought of great barbecue and her favorite ice cream. In any case, her spirits are much higher than when she left. Benny takes the ice cream from her and gives her a warm smile before putting the dessert away.

* * *

 

The rest of the afternoon with Benny and Elizabeth had been pretty uneventful. They’d cooked the ribs on the ancient community barbecue that sat in the corner of the encroaching jungle. A few of the neighbors dropped by with coleslaw and salad, bread and hot dogs, and soon enough there was a party going. Benny had watched Elizabeth closely, but she seemed to be enjoying herself enough, tilting her head back and laughing when one of the neighbor girls a few years younger than her said something funny. She’d caught Benny’s eye and nodded, a small smile on her lips. After that, the tension had bled away from Benny’s shoulders.

By the time the sun had set, Dean was full of barbecue and ice cream, and he was just this side of exhausted. He had enough energy to drive back to the house, and so he’d found Benny to let him know he was going. Dean tried not to think about the disappointed look on Benny’s face.

Dean’s phone buzzes with a text message when he’s on the highway, so he ignores it until he gets home. He checks it as he’s opening the front door, and the message is from Benny. “CALL SAM” is all it says.

Dean sits at the table and rubs at his eyes. He doesn't want to call Sam. He doesn't want to have to try to make nice with his brother when his brother was the one who left them. Him. He shouldn't have to be the better person. 

But Benny's text sits in front of him, the capital letters judging him as he shirks his promise. He owes Benny after all.

Dean gets up and grabs a beer from the fridge. He's going to need a little bit of liquid courage for this conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

The phone rings. Twice. Three times. After the fourth ring, Dean's about ready to hang up when he hears Sam's voice, out of breath. "Hello?"

Dean's stunned into silence for a moment, and even if he wanted to, he doesn't think he could get any sound to come out of his mouth.

"Hello?!" Sam says, irritation showing in his voice.

Dean clears his throat. "Hi, Sammy. Sam." Dean corrects himself. He remembers that Sam always hated being called Sammy.

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. Dean can picture the stunned look on Sam's face. He'll gather himself in a second, and then his eyebrows and mouth will twist in distaste, maybe anger, and then Sam will say something curt and hang up.

So Dean's surprised when Sam just says, "Dean? Is that you?"

Dean takes a minute to wonder who else might call his brother Sammy. "Yeah, it's me. Um. How are you?"

"I'm good. I mean.... Dean, is it really you?"

Dean swallows. "Yeah." He feels like a parrot, repeating himself.

"Wow," Sam says, and there's the sound of a long exhale. "So. How've you been?"

"Good. Good. You?" Dean asks. It's possibly the most inane conversation he's had with anyone, and given that this is supposed to be one of the most important conversations he's going to have, he kind of wants to kick himself. And maybe Sam too. Just a little bit.

"Okay, I guess." Sam hesitates, and then says in a rush. "I miss you. I know, you hate this kind of stuff, but...Dean, I'm sorry. I should have." Inhale. "I should have called you a long time ago."

Dean doesn't know what to say. He'd been expecting a fight, and here was Sam, apologizing to him. Dean thought he was going to have to be the one to suck it up and say he was sorry. 

* * *

 

Dean and Sam talk for about an hour, catching up on their lives over the past few years. Sam’s thrilled to hear about Dean’s teaching job. “Dean, that’s great! You’ve wanted this for a long time. You’re at a good school, too.”

Dean doesn’t tell Sam about pretending to be married to Benny.

They hang up with promises to keep in touch on a regular basis from now on, and Sam plans to come back East and visit Dean. It’s not quite the way it was before, but they’ve begun to fix it.

Dean practically jogs upstairs to take a shower before bed. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Sammy until they talked tonight. It was a great feeling.

It would have been even better if he could have shared it with Benny, Dean thinks as he lies in the dark, trying to fall asleep. He’d tried to call Benny after his shower, but there’d been no answer. Dean hadn't left a message.

* * *

 

Dean gets caught up in the whirlwind of work. He assigns and collects the first batches of papers in his two classes, and slogs through them over the course of a weekend. By Sunday evening he feels like he hasn’t had a weekend at all, but the papers are finished. His students have a long way to go.

He passes Balthazar and Anna frequently in the halls of the history department, and they always ask after Benny. Anna’s hinted at having Dean and Benny over for another dinner several times, but Dean manages to forestall any formal invitations. He explains, apologetically, that Benny’s still dealing with the family emergency, and that things are a little crazy right then.

Anna draws her brows together in a pretty frown. “Is there anything we can do to help? Do you need some time off? I’m sure that Balthazar can arrange for someone to cover your classes while you help out your fiancé.” 

“No! No.” Dean holds up a hand. “It’s okay. It’s....” he sighs heavily. “Benny’s really private, doesn’t like to air out his problems for everyone to see. He really wouldn’t want anyone knowing.” Dean cringes at how false he sounds, even if it’s mostly true. 

Anna gives him a sharp look, one eyebrow raised appraisingly. She merely nods, though, and lets Dean off the hook.

Other invitations come in, though. Faculty members of other departments who teach in classrooms next to Dean’s strike up conversations with him and encourage him to bring his fiance over, “just for drinks,” or “we’re playing basketball next week, come on by.” Dean’s running out of polite ways to get out of being social with his new colleagues, and, frankly, he’s beginning to resent that he has to in the first place.

Not only has Benny been conspicuously absent from the small house on campus, but he’s been out of touch with Dean almost entirely. No calls, not even a text. Every time Dean tries to call, it goes straight to voicemail.

He sends text instead. “Everything ok? Call me.”

He doesn’t think about how long it took him to compose that simple message.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Benny calls, finally. Dean’s not paying attention when he picks up the phone, because he’s putting the last comment on a student paper. So when he hears Benny’s voice, his stomach does a surprised flip-flop that Dean isn’t expecting.

“Hello, brother,” Benny says, and his voice is a soothing balm. His Louisiana accent comes out of his throat deep and thick, as it only does when Benny’s bone tired. 

“Benny,” Dean says, and he winces at how stiff and cold he sounds. He’s being a class A idiot, really. Dean owes Benny his friendship; at this point, Benny needs a friend more than anything, and here’s Dean, acting like he’s been stood up on prom night. He softens his tone. “You don’t sound so good. You guys doing ok?”

Benny chuckles, and the sound is warm in Dean’s ear. “Depends on how you define “ok”, brother.”

Not only does Benny sound tired, he sounds _defeated_ , and it’s not a tone he’s used to hearing from his friend. Benny’s the solid one, Benny’s the one who’s the foundation holding Dean steady. For Benny to sound this much at sea... Dean holds his tongue, though, and waits for Benny to talk.

“Caroline’s not coming back, Dean.” He sighs. “She called from ... well, hell, I don’t know where she is. But she called and said that she found a new place to live and she’s not coming back.” Benny stops talking, but Dean waits him out, suspecting that there’s more to the story.

“Dean, she said she didn’t want me to send Elizabeth out to her. She doesn’t want her daughter.” Benny says this last in a near whisper, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“Oh, Benny,” is all Dean can find to say. Everything he can think of to say sounds trite and useless, so he just keeps his mouth shut. 

Eventually, Benny exhales slowly and says, “I’m not sure what to do here, Dean.”

Dean knows how much it took for Benny to admit that, so he says the first thing that pops into his head. “You and Elizabeth come stay here with me. Half your shit’s here anyway. I’ll– we’ll find a school for Elizabeth, and...” Dean trails off, because he doesn’t have an idea for what to do after that. He holds his breath, waiting for Benny to shoot him down, tell him it’s a terrible idea.

The silence on the other end of the phone goes on for a really long time. It’s long enough that Dean’s just about geared up to take it all back, but then Benny says, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Dean shuts his mouth with a click and waits Benny out. “It’s gonna be difficult, Dean. She’s gonna be angry about everything. She’s gonna say some pretty awful stuff.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, but we’ll just let her for a bit. She needs to know you’re not going anywhere.”

“Dean,” Benny says, a note of caution in his tone. “You realize we do this...we come to stay with you, you’re in it for the long haul, right? It won’t be just about me not going anywhere, but about you, too.”

Dean chews on his lower lip for a second, but he doesn’t really have to think about it, not that much. “Yeah, Benny, I know. She’s a good kid, and she deserves better than what she got. I’m honored to help you two.” Dean grips his phone tightly, hoping that he hasn’t said too much.

Benny chuckles. “You might not say that after a night of screaming and slamming doors.” Dean hums, a noncommittal sound. Benny’s tone turns serious as he speaks again. “So uh, the whole fake fiancé thing. I don’t know that this is something I want to keep up in front of Elizabeth.” He sounds regretful. Or, that’s how Dean’s interpreting it.

Dean looks down at the gold band that’s still around his finger on his left hand. He hasn’t taken it off since this whole thing started, and even though it never meant anything, a small part of him sinks when he realizes he’s going to have to. “Yeah, I get that. This is more important Benny. I’ll talk to Balthazar, let him know what’s up. If I have to, I’ll get another job. We’ll find someplace else to live.” Dean pauses. “One with three bedrooms.”

“Hm,” Benny hums. “I don’t know that it’ll come to that. Hang on,” Benny says, and then Dean can hear muffled talking through the speaker. It sounds like Elizabeth. “I gotta go and talk to her. We’ll... we’ll see you soon. Thank you, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t have time to respond before Benny hangs up. He stares down at his phone for a few long moments before tossing it onto the edge of the bed. For the first time in weeks he feels strangely calm. Yeah, his job’s in jeopardy, but that’s on him. His friend’s family is in crisis, and that’s more important than anything. 

* * *

 

Dean paces outside of Balthazar’s office. He’s learned that the corridor has exactly sixty-seven green-gray tiles and sixteen and a half blue-green ones. He doesn’t know why there’s a half of one. But this is information he has.

He’s been waiting for Balthazar for an hour.

It’s more accurate to say that he’s been pacing up and down outside of Balthazar’s office for an hour, trying to get up the courage to step up to the door and knock on it. Because in the light of day, the prospect of being not just jobless, but also homeless looks a lot less attractive than it had when he was on the phone with Benny.

“Shit,” Dean says under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit.” The murmured curses don’t really help.

He decides that the next time he turns around and heads back to the bottom of the hallway, he’ll keep walking until he’s out of the building. Then he’ll walk back to the house and call Benny. He’ll tell Benny he’s a gigantic chicken-shit of a human being, and that Benny and Elizabeth will have to figure things out...

“Dean?” Balthazar’s voice penetrates Dean’s thoughts and he’s brought up short. _Fuck._

“Hello. Um, hi, Dr. deRoche.”

Balthazar rolls his eyes. “What have I said about that, Dean? Just call me Balthazar. Were you looking for me?” Balthazar holds the door to his office open just a little wider and Dean’s stomach sinks. He really can’t leave now, and was he really planning on telling Benny that he couldn’t help him? Especially after hearing how relieved his friend sounded at the end of their conversation? Dean’s an asshole sometimes, but he’s not _that_ much of one. Dean wipes his hands on his pants and nods, following Balthazar into the office.

Balthazar indicates the chair facing his desk, and Dean lowers himself into it. Like the last time he’d been in Balthazar’s office - for his interview - he was so nervous that he could barely concentrate on his surroundings. However, he can’t help but notice how utterly unlike his impressions of Balthazar the office is. Where Balthazar is an outgoing, albeit absent-minded academic, the office is Spartan and cool. A block white couch sits against one wall, and Balthazar’s desk is a glass top supported by two nickel plated sets of legs. The desk is immaculate, with only one book and a pad of paper adorning it. Balthazar places the paper inside the book carefully and closes it, putting it to one side. He clasps his hands together and leans forward.

“What’s on your mind, Dean?” Balthazar asks. His smile is kind, with soft crinkles around his eyes. 

Dean swallows and sits up a bit straighter. Focusing his attention on Balthazar’s right ear, he says, “I’m afraid that I took this job under false pretenses, sir.”

“Oh?” Balthazar asks, tilting his head in a question.

Dean nods. “Benny isn’t my fiancé. I’m not engaged to be married. I– I lied so that you would offer me the job. I know my timing is terrible, with midterms beginning next week, but...”

Dean trails off, waiting for the inevitable explosion. He knows he hasn’t explained himself well, and he certainly hasn’t presented himself in the best light possible. 

Balthazar begins to laugh. It starts as a soft chortle, and then grows into a full belly laugh that lasts for nearly forty-five seconds. He holds up a finger and pulls out his cell phone. He swipes open the phone and selects something on the touch screen and then holds up the phone to his ear.

“Sir,” Dean begins, but Balthazar shushes him.

The person Balthazar is calling picks up and Balthazar says, “I owe you twenty dollars.” He listens for a minute, laughs and then says, “See you later, darling.”

Dean stares at Balthazar in shock for a moment, his mouth hanging open like a codfish. Finally, he splutters, “But...I don’t.”

“Oh, Dean.” Balthazar looks almost... disappointed. “Anna thought you weren’t really engaged to Benny almost immediately. I didn’t agree, and she made a bet with me that you weren’t.” Balthazar heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I’m out twenty bucks.”

Dean frowns. He lied about being engaged to Benny, yeah. But Balthazar and Anna were betting on whether it was a lie or not? 

“Balthazar...” Dean begins.

“Dean, it’s all right. We knew, and we kept you on anyway. I suppose we should have told you, but at the time we were kind of in a bind - we _needed_ you to teach those courses as much as you needed the job.”

“So...” Dean says, feeling a bit slow on the uptake.

“Look. The job is yours if you want to keep it. You’re a damn fine teacher. I’ve been to a couple of your lectures and spoken with your students. They like you. They’re learning from you. That’s what we want in our faculty.” Balthazar leans forward, the smile gone from his lips. “But you understand that you can’t keep up the charade any longer.”

“No. No, of course not. That’s why I came to tell you. Benny really did have a family emergency, and it’s... well, it’s kind of come to a head, and we figured we couldn’t keep up the fake fiancé thing...” Dean takes a deep breath, because he’s not making any sense. “Benny’s got to take care of his niece. I told him I would help.”

“That’s admirable, Dean, but you and Benny can’t live together on campus. You understand that we are still a family-friendly campus, and...”

“No, no, I get that.” Dean’s head whirls. There’s so much he has to figure out still, not the least of which is where is he going to live, but his mind keeps going back to the fact that _he still has a job_. 

“Dean?” Balthazar asks after a long moment.

“Uh. Yeah, sorry.” Dean pushes back from the desk. “I appreciate you not firing me. I like teaching. I like teaching here. Thanks for...” Dean waves his hand. He stumbles a bit as he backs up.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Balthazar says, but he’s grinning. Dean nods and turns around, beating a hasty retreat before he does or says anything stupid.

Of course, he runs into Anna just outside. 

“Uh,” Dean says.

Anna smiles at him. “Balthazar and I will be the only other ones who know, Dean.” She puts her finger to the side of her nose and winks as she pushes into Balthazar’s office. The last thing Dean hears before the door shuts is Anna demanding that Balthazar pay up.


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Dean does is call Sam. The fact that he can do this now puts a smile on his face, despite the fact that he’s got nowhere to live right now. He fills Sam in on the whole thing, from start to finish. There’s silence on the other end when Dean stops talking.

“Go ahead and laugh, I know you want to,” Dean says, a wry smile on his own face. He can practically hear Sam holding back. 

Sam snorts in his ear. “No, man. I wouldn’t laugh at you.” The “not now that we’ve just started talking again” goes unsaid, but it hangs between them.

Dean huffs. “I deserve it. The whole idea was stupid.”

Sam does laugh a bit at that, but it’s a sympathetic laugh. “You still have your job, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And you like it, you’re good at it,” Sam says.

“Yeah,” Dean replies, even though it wasn’t a question.

“Only one thing left.”

“How’s that?” Dean asks, frowning.

“You’re going to talk to Benny, right?” Sam asks. Dean tries to figure out what Sam’s talking about. 

“Uh, yeah, of course. I’m gonna have to crash on his couch until I find a place to live.” Sam sighs heavily, and Dean knows that Sam’s rolling his eyes. “What, Sam?”

“Dean, you’re one of the dumbest smart people I know. How can you be this blind?”

“Sammy,” Dean says in a dark tone.

“No, Dean, listen. You need to talk to Benny about a whole bunch of stuff, not just living arrangements, okay? I’m not going to play matchmaker or anything, but dude. Just. Talk to him.” Sam trails off at the end of his mini-rant. “Look, sounds like you’ve got some packing and stuff to do. I gotta get some work done. Call me later.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. They say their goodbyes and Dean stares at his phone for a minute. What was that all about?

* * *

 

Dean packs up everything in the tiny house, even Benny’s stuff. There isn’t that much of it, really, just some clothes and some cooking utensils. It’s not like either of them were there very long. 

He puts the last box into the trunk of the Impala and slams it shut, turning to look back at the house. He’s got mixed feelings about the place. He liked living on campus, being close to work and part of the community. He liked having Benny there, and spending quiet evenings together. Lying about his relationship with Benny left a sour taste in his mouth, and then when Benny had to leave… 

Dean drops the key to the house into the mailbox and gets into the car. He starts her up, the rumbling of her engine soothing the small pang that he feels about leaving the house behind. 

He likes driving to work better, anyway.

* * *

 

When he gets to Benny’s place, the hallway outside Benny’s door is filled with the delicious scent of Benny’s cooking. The door’s ajar, like Benny’s been expecting him, and Dean pushes inside, holding one of the boxes of Benny’s things. Dean’s duffle is slung over his shoulder.

Elizabeth’s sitting on the couch, working on math homework. Her eyes flicker up briefly when Dean walks in, and a tentative half smile curves her lips. Dean grins back at her and nods, grateful that she seems to be okay with him staying there for a while. He points at the kitchen.

“Benny?”

“Yeah,” she says, returning her attention to her homework.

Effectively dismissed, Dean lets his duffle slide to the floor behind the couch and heads into the kitchen. He puts the box of kitchenware on the counter, and the sound gets Benny’s attention.

“Go okay?” Benny asks.

Dean snags a carrot from the pile of vegetables that Benny’s been chopping. “I still have a job. Turns out they knew all along.”

Benny grunts at that and slaps Dean’s hand away when Dean tries to snake another carrot off the counter. “They’re not firing you, though. ’S good.”

“Yeah. Need a place to crash until I find a new apartment though.” Dean raises his eyebrows in a question.

Benny snorts. “You don’t even have to ask. Now go set the table, dinner’s gonna be ready soon.”

Dean does as he’s bid. Dinner’s a quiet affair, with mostly monosyllabic responses from Elizabeth to Dean and Benny’s questions. She eats quickly, like the meal is an ordeal she wants to get over with, but she compliments Benny’s cooking nicely enough when she’s finished. She clears the dishes and puts them in the dishwasher while Dean cleans up from Benny’s cooking.

They work quietly next to each other for a few minutes, and then Elizabeth says, “It’s okay you’re here.”

Dean inhales sharply, but continues scrubbing the pot he’s got in his hands. He waits out Elizabeth, knowing she’s got more to say.

“I’m probably going to be pretty hard to live with though,” she says, in a remarkable show of self-knowledge.

Dean grunts. “That’s your right.” Dean puts the pot into the dish rack next to the sink. “You gotta know that Benny’s gonna do the best he can. And I’ll help. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Neither do I,” Elizabeth says softly. After a few uncomfortable moments, she says, “It’s so unfair!” 

Dean’s not sure what to do - should he offer to hug her? Let her lean against the counter and cry? Call for Benny?

Elizabeth solves the problem for Dean by initiating the hug herself. It’s brief, barely a squeeze, before she’s pulling away. She stands awkwardly by the entrance to the kitchen, nibbling at her lip for a moment, and then she mumbles, “Good night.” She’s gone before Dean can reply.

Dean finishes up in the kitchen and joins Benny on the couch. Benny smiles at him, and Dean realizes how much he missed his friend, missed seeing that smile. 

“She’s going to be okay,” Benny says, but it’s more of a question. 

“It’ll take a while,” Dean says. Benny nods. He stretches out his legs and leans further back into the plush pillows on the couch. 

They lapse into silence, the emotional roller coaster of the day catching up with the both of them. Dean’s eyes drift closed a few times, and he forces them open each time, only to catch Benny smiling at him.

“What?” Dean asks, feeling drugged with sleepiness.

Benny shrugs and gets up. He holds out a hand to Dean. “C’mon. Bedtime.” Dean takes Benny’s hand and lets Benny haul him up. He balks when Benny starts leading him down the hallway towards Benny’s room.

“What–“ Dean splutters.

“Hush,” Benny says, pointing to Elizabeth’s closed door as they pass it. 

Benny’s room is at the end of the hallway. Benny’s got a king sized bed, not unlike the one they shared at the house on campus. Benny’s room is just big enough to house the large bed, with a chest of drawers by one window and a closet on the other side of the room. Benny’s meticulously neat with his things, so everything is in its place. The bed is made, with a row of three pillows at the head, and an extra blanket folded at the bottom. 

Benny pulls Dean inside the room and closes the door behind them, flipping the lock. He guides Dean toward the bed, until the back of Dean’s knees hits the edge and he’s forced to sit with a soft _oof._ Benny sits next to him, their hands still clasped together.

“Benny?” Dean asks. “What’s going on?”

A warm smile creeps across Benny’s face. “Come on, Dean, you’re smarter than this.” Benny’s voice is low, husky even, and Dean can’t help the small shiver that steals across him.

“Tell me like I’m in first grade, LaFitte,” Dean says. Benny huffs a laugh and kisses Dean. His beard rubs softly against Dean’s cheek, and Benny’s mouth is warm against his own. Benny tastes of paprika and beer, with a faint odor of yeasty bread dough beneath. Dean feels Benny’s warm palm cup his cheek, and he leans into the gesture.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Benny asks when they stop kissing. His mouth hovers close to Dean’s, so Dean can feel the movement of Benny’s lips. Though he wants to lean in and capture Benny’s mouth with his own again, he’s feeling off-balanced, like he might teeter and fall.

“I. I don’t–“ Dean scrambles for words, he knows how to use them, he can do this, but they won’t come out, they just stay lodged in his throat. Benny kisses him again, even more slowly this time, as if he’s giving Dean’s brain the chance to catch up with what their mouths are doing. Eventually, Benny rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, his nose buried in Dean’s neck. Benny’s hands rub small circles into Dean’s back, and it’s so comfortable, so familiar that Dean never wants to move again. 

“Benny,” Dean sighs.

“Dean.” It’s barely a murmur. Benny’s beard tickles Dean’s neck, and he laughs softly. Dean drags his hand through Benny’s hair and tilts his head upward. Benny gazes at Dean for a moment, and then says, “I’m sorry I abandoned you.”

Dean frowns a little. “Don’t. Don’t even think that Benny. Your family is more important, okay?”

“When are you going to get it through your head that you’re my family too, Dean?” Benny kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth. “I originally said I’d help you because I wanted to help you get the job. Then I just wanted to spend time with you. Then the shit hit the fan, and I had to deal with it, but I missed you. So much.”

Their heads are bent together as they talk, speaking in low tones. Dean’s head still whirls with everything that’s happened over the last day, but he can’t deny that he, too, missed having Benny around. He says as much to Benny, who gives him a sad look in response. Dean’s not quite sure what to do with that. Benny shifts, and Dean lets Benny guide him to the center of the bed, where Benny lies down. Dean rests his head on Benny’s chest, right over Benny’s heart. He can hear the _thumpthumpthump_ of Benny’s heart, and he closes his eyes to let the rhythm tug at him a bit. Benny’s got one arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulder, and he presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head.

“You know, you don’t have to find a new place to live,” Benny says after a while. 

Dean lifts his head so his chin rests on Benny’s chest. “No?”

“Well, we were going to stay with you, so…why don’t you just stay with us?”

“Elizabeth going to be okay with it?” Dean asks.

Benny sighs. “I don’t know, to be honest. We’ll ask her in the morning. And if she’s not…we’ll come up with a compromise?”

Dean kisses Benny’s chest through his t-shirt. “Okay.” 

They drift to sleep after that, still fully clothed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 


	13. Epilogue

**Four months later**

 

“Come on, Benny, we’re gonna be late!” Dean says from the doorway to their apartment. Elizabeth eyes him from the couch. Her feet are tucked beneath her and she’s wearing sweats. She’s got her e-reader next to her, waiting for her to pick up where she’d left off.

“He doesn’t know how to be on time,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Dean huffs a laugh and nods in agreement. Benny works on LaFitte time, which is always about 30 minutes behind everyone else. Dean’s learned to build it in ahead of time so they won’t have to play catch up all the time.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Hold your horses,” Benny says, his voice emerging from the bathroom. He finally exits the small room that they share between the three of them (they’re looking for a place that has more than one bathroom; it’s been a few months and everyone’s wholly frustrated) and comes into the living room. He holds his arms wide, displaying himself for his niece and boyfriend. “So, do I pass muster?”

Elizabeth jumps up and straightens his bow tie, not that it really needs it, and she plants a kiss on his cheek. “You look great, uncle Benny,” she says. “You too, Dean.” 

Dean grins, but he really only has eyes for Benny, who’s wearing the same tuxedo he’d worn the night Dean got the job at the college. Tonight’s the night of the holiday party, and they’re both wearing their own tuxes now. Benny had taken Dean shopping for the tux a few weekends ago, and this was its inaugural debut.

Benny holds out his arm, and Dean takes it. “Don’t stay up too late, Elizabeth,” Benny says.

“Whatever,” She says, waving her hand at him. “Take a cab home if you drink too much.”

“Who’s the adult here?” Benny asks, but he’s grinning. Elizabeth smiles back at him. They leave, and Dean holds the passenger door to the Impala open for Benny to slide inside.

They’re quiet on the ride over to the campus, both of them no doubt thinking about the last time they’d gone to a black tie reception. 

Dean parks next to the building and turns off the engine. Turning to Benny, he says, “Ready?”

Benny grins. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

Inside, the atrium is decorated for the holidays - garland hangs from the balconies above, and in the center of the hall stands a tree that towers over everyone. Lively conversation assaults their ears as soon as they enter, and they can just make out the sound of a string quartet off in one corner. 

Balthazar looks up and sees Dean, but the smile falls away from his face when he recognizes Benny. He nudges Anna and points at Dean, and they both work their way over to the couple.

Balthazar plasters a smile on his face and says, “Dean, I thought that…”

Benny interrupts. “We wanted you guys to be the first to know.” He holds up their hands, where new twin gold bands rest on their fourth fingers. “Dean and I are engaged. For real.” He winks at Anna and Balthazar who stare at the two of them, mouths gaping.

“Really?” Anna collects her wits about her.

“Really,” Dean says, and he leans over to kiss Benny. It’s nothing like the first time they kissed in this very atrium, when it was for show, and Dean had frozen beneath Benny’s lips. They lose themselves in the kiss, not meaning for it to get as heated as it does, and by the time they manage to tear apart, Balthazar and Anna have slipped away.

They laugh and kiss again, and then head into the crowd to mingle with the other members of the faculty, hands clasped together tightly.


End file.
